We were dragging a bit this morning—exhausted but determined. We made it to breakfast just in time, though my usual café latte maker had the day off. By 10:30 a.m., we were hopping in an Uber, en route to our cooking class at Le Foodist.
Locked Doors and New Friends
We arrived right on time… only to find the door locked. A quick text to Naman revealed there had actually been a 9 a.m. market tour option before the class. Surprise! Our travel agent Kristen hadn’t mentioned that part, but honestly, we probably wouldn’t have made it anyway.
We were told they’d be back shortly to unlock the door, so we waited—and sure enough, here they came, arms full of fresh market finds. There were seven other students in the class, and I remember a sweet mother-daughter duo from Canada. We had quick intros and blended right in with the group, all ready to cook with our charming chef, Luc.
Into the Kitchen
Once inside, we got started on our menu: coq au vin, scalloped potatoes, cauliflower soup, poached pears, and house-made ice cream.
There were 9 of us in the class. Aprons on, hands washed, and into the kitchen we went. Our instructor, Chef Luc, was both skilled and hilarious. He assigned stations: chopping cauliflower, slicing potatoes, prepping pears, shaping tiny veggie melon balls—everyone had a role. Mom joined Team Cauliflower. Their job was to carefully trim 30 equal-size florets, which were then roasted to perfection for the soup garnish. The rest of the cauliflower was chopped and used to make the creamy base of the soup. I flew solo on the potatoes.
Luc jumped in to help me speed things along. I built the scalloped potato dish from start to finish—layer after creamy, nutmeg-dusted layer, pressing it all down to release air bubbles before topping it off with cream. Into the oven it went for an hour.
Cheers, French Style
Next came wine, which we used for cooking (and sipping). Luc showed us how to toast like the French—with solid eye contact and a cheerful “Santé!” So different from home.
Then came the chicken. After washing up again, we trimmed, seasoned, and rolled it into sausage-like bundles, which Luc boiled. He handled the sauce while we regrouped.
When he shouted “Service!” (very official), we ladled soup into bowls using pitchers—each topped with three carefully roasted cauliflower florets. It was delicious.
Then came the main event: perfectly cooked chicken, rich sauce, and my scalloped potatoes, which—humble brag—got rave reviews. Luc even sat with us for this course and dessert.
Dessert was poached pears with warm chocolate drizzle and a scoop of custard—like homemade ice cream. So simple. So good.
Parisian Shopping Adventure
After the cooking class, we Ubered back to the hotel to freshen up before heading out again. This time, we walked over to Le Bon Marché, which our Paris by Night driver had recommended—and it was just a short stroll from our hotel.
A little fun fact: Le Bon Marché isn’t just any department store. It’s actually considered the first modern department store in the world, opening in 1852. The whole concept of fixed prices, beautiful displays, and a wide variety of goods all under one roof? That started right here in Paris, in the heart of the St. Germain neighborhood.
We had a blast shopping. I found some adorable Petit Bateau outfits for my grandsons—complete with Breton stripes in the sweetest shade of blue. That classic French pattern gave the outfits such a charming Parisian feel. I quickly learned that French stores don’t keep all the sizes out like we do back home. One sweet clerk tried to help me track down the sizes I needed while I had outfits stretched out all over the counter. Meanwhile, another clerk kept swooping in to rehang each piece, carefully restoring the display like it was a work of art. Shopping in France is truly an experience—it’s a blend of form, function, and fashion perfection.
Mom spotted a pair of sandals she wanted to try on, and that came with its own lesson. You don’t just walk up to a counter like at home. You have to find the specific salesperson in charge of that section of the shoe department. And once you do, they take helping you very seriously. It’s intentional, personal, and honestly kind of lovely—like they see it as an art, not a transaction. The sandals had cream roping and looked very stylish, very Parisian. Mom loved them so much she wore them to dinner that night.
A Stylish Struggle and a Sweet Finish
We walked about 10 minutes to L’Affable, and Mom quickly realized those adorable sandals weren’t exactly made for distance. They started hurting her feet, but she didn’t care—they were from Paris. We laughed the whole way home as she wobbled in pain, determined to enjoy every stylish step.
We finally were soak in the charm of the sidewalk cafe.
We were still pretty full from the cooking class, but somehow I managed to find options to eat. Dinner was absolutely delicious.
This restaurant is know for their chocolate soufflé —light, rich, and perfectly warm in the center.
Our enduring memory…eating that souffle during sunset in the soft evening air in Paris…
Oh no… only one more full day left.
Happiness is Possible 